Homeward Bound
by snaxo
Summary: In the end, it is easy. You get dressed, you pick up your wand, and you go home. Post-War. Snaco.


In the end, it is easy.

You get dressed, you pick up your wand, and you go home.

You don't apparate back to England, instead using muggle transport to get to Wiltshire. You need the time to think, to plan what you're going to say.

Your leg bounces up and down as trees and hills fly past you. You haven't been to England since the war, preferring the quiet seclusion of your mother's cottage in Wales. You haven't spoken to anyone from the wizarding world since you left; they don't even know you're alive.

You're seen as a war hero now, one of the bravest men to ever exist – this irks you, you know it's only because you're 'dead' that they think this. Because you're not a threat, they can fabricate your actions; make you seem better than what you were. You know there are still people who are glad at your 'death', but if there's anything you know how to deal with, it is people not liking you.

You have worries; it's been a while since you last saw the boy, almost four years now. It shocks you to think that he's grown up, no longer the frail, scared seventeen year old. He's probably married, you think. Malfoy's have duties, after all.

That thought makes you want to turn around, go back to the isolated cottage and never return. But you are not a quitter, and you will go through with your plan. You will see the boy, and you will make sure he understands.

The thought of marriage increases your worries, though. You hope it's with the Greengrass girl; you're aware of her preferences, and the fact that she knew Draco loved you. She's most likely to understand, you think, most likely to help if Draco doesn't want to know you.

You're not sure how he will react; he's thought you dead for four years. He will be angry, you know that much; he'll hate you for leaving him. You just hope that, deep down, he still loves you. You're doing this for him; you fought for your life for him. You hope he understand that.

No one tries to sit next to you, no one talks to you, and you prefer it that way. It leaves you room to think, to reflect on the three years you spent almost attached at the hip. You've missed him desperately over the past few years, more than anything else from the life you left behind.

You lean back in your chair and look out the window. It's not long before you need to get off and start the long walk to the Manor. You're not sure how you feel about that.

x*x*x*x*x*

You walk through the snow and the wind, coat pulled tightly against your slim frame. You lost a lot of weight during and after the war, and haven't managed to regain it. You refuse to believe it's because he hasn't been there to remind you to eat.

You reach the gate, shivering, and wait for the house elf to appear. When it does, you see its eyes widen, and it disappears almost immediately.

You're surprised when Lucius comes to the gate, you thought he would be in Azkaban, but you realise that's a stupid thought. Of course he isn't; Lucius always did manage to get himself out of tough situations.

"Severus?" he asks, surprised.

"Yes," you say. You don't look like you used to, there's a large scar that runs from the tip of your cheekbone, down the left side of your face, and onto your neck and upper chest.

He ushers you through the gate and you're surprised when he pulls you into a hug.

"Idiot," he mumbles. "You're supposed to be dead."

"It's a long story," you reply, allowing him to walk you into the house.

He calls for Narcissa, and her face is pure shock when she sees you. They can barely believe it's you. After all, you didn't just leave their son behind, you left your friends, too.

They bring you into the sitting room. There's a fire crackling away and you're grateful for it, it's the middle of winter and you're not dressed in the most appropriate clothing. Narcissa scolds you as she pushes you into a seat, calling a house elf to bring a tray of tea.

"He's not here," Lucius says, sitting down across from him. You don't bother asking who _he _is. "He'll be back tomorrow."

You swallow, that didn't go with your plan. You want him here now. You want to see him.

"He's married," Narcissa says, and she sits down next to you, taking your hand.

You let her, years of being friends have taught you not to argue. "Who?"

"Astoria," she replies. "For a year now. He got sick of hoping, Severus."

The elf reappears and you watch as it places the tray of tea on the table in front of you, disappearing as soon as it's done.

You don't reply to Narcissa, but you accept the tea she hands you. At least it's Astoria, you think.

"He didn't want to, at first. But Astoria's parents got pushy, and he was the only one willing to marry and not have a proper relationship."

You look at her, confused, and she smiles at you, soft and understanding.

"Astoria has a steady relationship with the Lovegood girl, they keep it hidden, and no one suspects anything."

"We haven't seen Draco with anyone," Lucius says. You remember how angry he was when he found out you were sleeping with his son, how long it took for him to be okay with it. "He's had lovers, but they've never lasted for more than a week."

"He stays here," Narcissa murmurs. "He still sleeps in your clothes."

You take in a sharp breath, angry at the hope that spreads through your chest.

"You'll stay here tonight," Lucius says, and you don't argue.

"Draco will be here for breakfast. We can warn him, if you'd like."

"Whatever you think is best," you say.

Narcissa smiles at you again and sips at her tea, "I'm glad you're here, Severus."

You smile at her. You are, too.

x*x*x*x*x*

Dinner is a small affair. They update you on what's been happening the past few years, and you tell them how you managed to survive. You mention that it's really Draco's fault you're still here. The boy was the one who had shoved anti-venom potions down your throat, after all.

They offer to show you photos of Draco's wedding, but you refuse. You want to see him for yourself first.

They tell you what they've been up to, and in turn you tell them about your life in the cottage.

It's good, you think. You've missed your friends. It's nice to have them back.

Or it was good, until Narcissa tells you that Draco spent six months in Azkaban waiting for a trial. That fact makes you want to hunt Potter down and kill him for ever making your boy hurt.

x*x*x*x*x*

Narcissa walks you up to your room later. "Draco slept in it when he got out of Azkaban," she says, and your heart hurts for the boy.

"He's going to be angry," you say. "I don't want to upset him any more than I already have."

"Don't be a git, Severus," Narcissa says fondly, and she places her hand on you. "He'll be angry, and then he'll grab you and not let go. He loves you, he'll always be happy to see you."

You sigh, hand resting on the door to your old room.

She runs her hand down your arm, "Get some rest, Sev. I'll see you in the morning."

x*x*x*x*x*

You don't sleep much, if at all. Instead you toss and turn all night, even getting up and pacing at one point. You think about tomorrow, about seeing him again. You stare at the walls and the expansive furniture for hours, thinking about everything you want to say to him.

You're nervous, and it's a strange feeling; something you haven't felt in a long time.

x*x*x*x*x*

It turns out Lucius and Narcissa decided not to warn him, you realise. You don't have much time to think about it, though.

He's still yelling out to his mother when he walks into the dining room and sees you. He stops short, words dying in his throat. You see his body go tense, disbelief clouding his features.

He doesn't say anything, and neither do you at first. You take the time to look at him and notice the changes. He's grown in the past four years; he is no longer the thin, delicate boy. His body has filled out, there's muscle where there used to just be skin and bone, his shoulders have widened and the sharpness of his face has softened. He looks happier than the last time you saw him, no longer do his features scream stress and sadness. The bags under his eyes, while still there, have faded considerably, and he no longer looks like he's carrying a world of stress.

He's a man, you realise, an adult. You're not sure how you feel about that.

He's still staring at you, like he can't quite believe you're standing in front of him. You don't blame him. You haven't done anything since the war to indicate you're alive. You can see the emotions as they flicker across his face; he had never been god at hiding his feelings from you.

"You're supposed to be dead," he whispers, and you can hear his voice crack. "You're _dead_."

"About that," you start, and he draws his arms around himself, like he's protecting himself from you.

"No," he shakes his head. "_No._"

"Draco," you say slowly, stepping towards him.

He steps back, and his face looks like he's holding back tears. "Don't come near me."

You nod and step back. You're going to let him get over the shock any way he wants to.

You're grateful Narcissa and Lucius went upstairs, because the yelling starts soon. You can count the number of times Draco has yelled at you during your relationship on one hand, and none of them had ever been as emotional as this.

You don't say anything while he does it; you don't defend yourself, you don't try and make excuses for your actions. You've hurt the boy – man, you have to remind yourself – and he deserves to be able to yell at you for it.

You stand there and endure the screaming, the disbelief, and the resentment. You watch as he eventually calms down, and you see the anger fall away to sadness. He takes a deep breath, and you see the first tear slide down his face. It isn't until then that you step forward hesitantly.

He doesn't say anything, so you walk to him and pull him into your arms. His face immediately finds its way to hide in the nook of your shoulder, and his arms slide around your body. You hold him tight, one hand running through his golden locks while the other runs soothing circles into his back.

"I had to," you whisper. "I'm sorry, but I had to. I didn't want to leave you, Draco. Believe me."

"So long," he mumbles. "You left for so long."

"I didn't know how to come back," you reply.

You stay like that for a while, until he calms down and pulls away. Your hand moves so it's cupping his face, and he stares up at you. You notice the tear stains on his cheeks, and the wetness of his eyelashes. You want nothing more than to lean down and kiss him.

"You have a lot of making up to do," he says, and you smile softly.

"Then I'll stay until I've finished doing it."

"May even be a lifetime of making up you need to do."

"Well," you say, "Then that's how long I'll be here."

He smiles at you, and it's the first time since you saw him. It takes up his entire face, and you can't help but think he looks beautiful.

He leans up as you lean down, and the kiss is slow and passionate. His hand tangles in your hair, the same as he always used to do, and you smile against his lips.

It's good to be back.

x*x*x*x*x*

Later, when you're lying next to him in bed, both naked and panting, he turns to his side and looks at you.

"I can't count the amount of times I dreamt about you coming back," he murmurs.

Your pull him against you, your hand immediately moving to stroke through his hair. "Me, too."

He places a kiss to the spot above your heart, "I never stopped loving you, Severus."

He's whispering, you can barely hear it, but your chest contracts and you pull him ever closer. "And I you."

He smiles at you again, and you can't help but think how stupid you were for ever leaving the boy.


End file.
